


I Don't Paint Dreams

by hellynz



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, and i love donna too much to leave her out of anything, the doctor and graham need to spend more time bonding over loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:11:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellynz/pseuds/hellynz
Summary: The Doctor is woken up by her nightmares. Graham can relate.





	I Don't Paint Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> "I don't paint dreams or nightmares. I paint my own reality."  
> \- Frida Kahlo

_“I... I can't go back. Don't make me go back. Doctor- please! Please don't make me go back! No... no, no, no please! Please, no! No! No! No...”_

The Doctor jerked awake with a half muffled cry, shooting to a sitting position and throwing her arms up defensively.

She had apparently (stupidly) nodded off on the couch in her media room, slumped over the armrest. On the TV the title screen for some late 1990’s comedy was repeating itself on mute, its boisterous images casting bright lights across the walls. Ryan was leaned back in a recliner, snoring gently. To her left Yaz was passed out as well, but her nap looked more planned; she was nestled comfortably against a pillow and covered by a large, fluffy blanket. Neither of them seemed to have been affected by the Doctor’s burst into consciousness.

The Doctor took a couple of deep breaths, trying to keep from gasping and waking up her friends. Her hearts were pounding in her chest. She pressed the palms of her hands to her weary eyes and pushed, watching lights burst into her vision. Her best guess was that she’d only been asleep for around thirty minutes, and she felt even more exhausted than before, but she knew she wouldn’t be getting any more rest tonight. Not that she wanted to repeat the experience, anyway.

“So is that why you don’t sleep much?” came Graham’s quiet voice from behind her, and she jumped again, still worked up. “Nightmares?” He was standing holding two cups of tea wearing a thick jumper, looking particularly grandfatherly. She calmed at the sight of him, standing so ordinarily in the doorway, and relaxed a bit.

“Oh, you know, among other things,” she replied, stifling a yawn, “mostly just have too much to do. Places to see, people to help. How am I supposed to do that if I’m sleeping?” She spit out the last word as if it was poison.

Graham handed her a cup over the back of the couch and moved towards his chair with his own. “Sounded like a bad one. I was heading out to put the kettle on when you started saying something about a Donna,” he said, not missing the wince on the blonde’s face, “and by the time I got back you were almost crying.”

She hummed at him, not sure what to say, staring down into the mug she’d wrapped her hands around.

“Honestly, I was shocked you’d fallen asleep at all. You’ve seemed tired lately and not like you’re really going to do anything about it. Are you okay, Doc?”

She nodded enthusiastically, ignoring the dull throb it caused in the back of her head. “I’m always okay, Graham, I’m the king of okay. Well, queen. Actually no, still king, I like that better,” she said quickly, smiling softly at him, knowing he wouldn’t buy it but trying anyways. She didn’t like being fussed over. She was the one who should be doing the fussing. “Plus, my people don’t have to sleep nearly as much as you lot. I can get by on a few hours a week.”

“And have you even been doing that?” he murmured, his eyes concerned and compassionate in a way that simultaneously made her feel both safer and more on edge. She scoffed, running a hand through her messy hair and shifting her position to face him, her sharp eyes boring into his.

“Don’t go worrying about me, Graham” she said, her expression kind but her voice stern. “Remember that I’m a few thousand years older than you, I can take care of myself.”

“No you can’t,” he snorted, and then gave a proper chuckle at the truly offended expression that dawned on her face. “You _don’t_ take care of yourself. You pretend nothing’s wrong until you drop and then you do it all over again.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again when Yaz shifted and muttered something in her sleep. Graham didn’t speak up again either, both of them wanting to let their younger companions rest. He angled a book he’d been paging through towards the light from the T.V. screen as the Doctor tried not to yawn again. Yaz rolled over, and then was still.

“Y’know," Graham spoke up, "I had nightmares for a while after Grace died,” he said, so quietly that she could barely hear him. Her eyes darted back up towards his, softening. “They started out reliving that moment, over and over and over. Eventually they changed to just dreaming that I was spending time with her and she was still alive,” he sighed loudly, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “You’d think that would be better, but it wasn’t. While they were happening everything was great. But once I woke up and realized that she wasn’t next to me... it was like she was dying every time I opened my eyes. It was terrible. They’ve only started calming down since Norway, don't quite know if that's normal, but I guess it gave me some kind of closure.”

“‘M so sorry Gra-” the Doctor started, her guilt for Grace’s death still as fresh as the day it had happened, but he shook his head and cut her off.

“I know you are, Doc. And you know I don’t blame you at all. I only say this because I want you to know that I get it. As much as I can, at least. I can’t fathom the amount of loss you’ve probably experienced in your few thousand years, but... I can imagine multiplying what I feel for Grace, and it seems unbearable,” he trailed off, breaking their eye contact and staring into the empty space between them. “And I want you to know you can talk to me - us, just Yaz, whoever you want to, you can talk to any of us and we will be here for you. You aren’t alone. And if you want to go back to sleep, we’ll all still be here when you wake up.”

He was going to make her cry, damn it. She hated crying. But she felt the burning in her throat, her eyes starting to water. When she took a deep breath, it shook and she grimaced, embarrassed. But he just looked away kindly, reopened his book, and began to read again.

Several minutes passed in silence. She leaned back into her seat, blinking quickly to banish the possibility of tears. She still didn’t think she’d be getting back to sleep anytime soon, even with eyelids so heavy she was struggling to keep them open.

So she spoke.

“Donna was my best mate.” Her voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper, but Graham still looked up immediately.

“I met her by accident and she got dragged along on an adventure with me, kinda like you lot. But she didn’t want to stay, not at first. We parted ways.” A rueful smile twisted on the Doctor’s face. “I guess it might have been better for her in the long run if she’d stayed away, but she didn’t. She got bored, started investigating weird events, hoping I’d show up. And then I did, and we ran off together. I was a man back then, a quite handsome one if I do say so myself, and she couldn't have cared less. She was really something. A spitfire. She didn’t put up with any of my nonsense, only did what she wanted and what she knew was right. And she was so smart, and so brave, and wonderful, but she thought nothing of herself. I wanted her to love and admire herself the way I loved and admired her _so badly_ , and we were starting to get there, you know, get her some self confidence, and she was going to travel with me forever, but then....”

She went quiet, reminiscing. Graham let her, waiting patiently.

“Then she saved the world. And... It's a long story, but because she did, I had to erase her memory of all the adventures we'd had, of all the magnificent things she had done for the universe and of... of me. If I hadn't, she would have died. I erased her memory of me as she begged me not to. And she knew what was happening. Knew that she would forget, and that she would give anything not to. And I still did it. And I dropped her back off at her old life and she moved on, doesn’t even know that she’s missing something. And now my best mate doesn’t remember that I exist,” she sighed, rubbing at her temples with one hand, “and I can never see her again. And I can never remind her that she is the most important woman in all of creation.”

“Doc...” Graham spoke after a moment, his voice low with grief, “that’s horrible.”

She barked out a laugh then clapped a hand over her mouth, glancing at the still sleeping younger humans in the room. “It is horrible, isn’t it. I dream about that moment a lot. The best friend I have ever had crying, standing in front of me begging me not to do that to her. But I still did.”

“It sounds like you had to,” he said.

"And yet I find myself thinking constantly about how I should have been able to find a better way," she said softly, the sorrow in her voice so unlike the jubilant, energetic Doctor that he knew.

She cleared her throat. “Sorry for bringing the mood down,” the Doctor said, standing carefully and shoving her hands into her pockets.

“No sorry. _Thank you_ for telling me about Donna, for trusting me with that,” Graham replied. She smiled, tight lipped, and took a breath in through her nose, looking like she may say something else. And then she was off, whirling on her heel, jacket swirling around her as she stalked from the room, muttering about things to do, repairs to make.

Once she was out of sight, Graham put his book on the table and leaned forward, rubbing the unshed tears from his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He heard a sad sigh and looked up, saw Yaz’s eyes shining at him from the dark as she sat up.

“You hear that?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” she said, her breath hitching. Graham nodded and leaned back.

“That woman has really been through the ringer.”

“...yeah.”

\-- 

The Doctor stopped by her room on the way to the console, where she was sure something needed tending to. She wandered over to a corner where she kept a desk and wall covered in pictures and souvenirs. Hanging on the wall next to a half painted over Van Gogh was a framed newspaper clipping announcing the matrimony of Donna Noble and Shaun Temple. The Doctor smiled sadly at it, eyes travelling over the words she practically had memorized by now, and then sat heavily in her chair, tiredness still pressing at the back of her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fanfic in many years, and I am both thrilled and terrified. The Thirteenth Doctor has really captured my imagination, and I hope to be posting more about her soon. I appreciate any feedback you have!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
